The Quatermass Travel Blog

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Having only just arrived back in Australia yesterday, after a trip of about 5 and a half weeks in the UK, I now have a variety of interesting anecdotes to relate about my trip, Britain, and Hong Kong. I also have a lot of filler. A lot. I buy it cheap in bulk.

I will be posting in two threads. This one will be for the blog only. I will sticky it and lock it, so that only I, my fellow moderators, and the admins can edit it or add new entries. In practice, it is highly unlikely that anyone but myself will add to this.

For any actual comments on the blog, I will direct you, when I start adding entries, to a seperate thread in the RD forum.

Please be advised that there may be strong language and views in this.

1st Entry:

Cramped and Cold (Brisbane, Hong Kong, and London, 17/1-29/1, relative time)

If anyone ever wanted to modernise Dante Aligheri's Inferno, then Economy Class on any aircraft going overseas would have to be one of those incorporated into the revised Circles of Hell, especially for an aspie. In order to cope, it would help if you are deaf and short. Books help, but in-flight entertainment systems, providing they have something half-way decent on, are better at distracting you from the fact that your legs are starting to twist into positions a contortionist would be proud of.

On the way to Hong Kong, with a brief hour-long stopover in Cairns, there was nothing to distract me except The Mask and a Discovery Channel doco on the Apollo missions. That is, when the in-flight entertainment system was actually working properly.

Here's a tip for Aspie travellers: get someone else to do the arrangements, preferably a competent and caring travelling companion. Thankfully, I did, and not only that, but I had a better sense of direction than her (my mother, hereafter referred to as TC for travel companion), and a better knack for getting around places, especially the Underground. She was grateful for it, though I annoyed her when I got frustrated with her (in my opinion) apparent lack of observation skills and geographical logic. Maybe I'm just a map-reading genius under stress, although my later experience in Stratford-upon-Avon belied that.

In any case, we stayed overnight in Hong Kong, and in particular in the Dorsett Far East. Here's a tip. The rooms are like f***ing cubicles. Barely any room for baggage and your own person. The staff were courteous and helpful, but little else about the hotel was.

After sleeping, we left for HK International Airport, which looked like it was designed by Ken Adam. I was tempted to buy Chrono Trigger for the DS, only to baulk when I found that it would have set me back HK$400, or about $80 AU. Thinking, 'sod that for a laugh', I moved on.

The flight over to London was a little more tolerable than the one to HK. There was slightly more leg room, and the entertainment system was wonderful. I watched The Dark Knight, Jurassic Park, and a few others that I cannot recall.

Once in London, we were whisked away to the Rhodes Hotel (in Paddington) by hired car, driven by someone from Somalia if I recall correctly. We were greeted by one of the owners, a big Greek called Chris. Very friendly, but like Brian Blessed with a Greek accent.

I spent the next day with TC orientating ourselves, having a walk down to Oxford Circus, and catching the Tube to Baker Street, and Madame Tussauds. Madame T's was a disappointingly expensive waste of money. 25 pounds (over $60 AU) to see a bunch of wax figurines who, albeit very realistic, were not worth the money. Got a few good pictures, particularly with Darwin and Einstein.

I went to bed, a little disappointed. But the best, and the worst, was yet to come...

Comments here: http://www.wrongplanet.net/postt92212.html

2nd Entry:

Tales of Interest (London, 20/1-23/1)

The day after the Madame Tussaud’s fiasco, I went on a tour that TC had booked for me and herself. It consisted of being stuck on a bus all day while someone who was having a verbal enema yapped to us about the places where we were going to: namely Warwick Castle, Stratford-upon-Avon, and Oxford. Don’t get me wrong, he was nice enough once he was out of his ‘tour anecdote’ mode, but on the way to Stratford-upon-Avon, he used a monologue about Shakespeare-invented phrases that I later found out to be ripped off. I think that he was a frustrated actor, or an out-of-work one.

Warwick Castle then. Interesting rooms, and gardens where (I joked to TC) rabid squirrels lurked around every corner. However, most interesting of all was talking to a man restoring an old suit of armour, from the Civil War, I believe

Then, to Stratford-upon-Avon, and the birthplace of William Shakespeare. There, we were entertained by an actor posing as John Shakespeare, the father of the definitive article, and a nice look through the place. After arranging to see TC later (while she took some afternoon tea), I went to check out the shopping, hoping to purchase a book or a DVD. I did find the illustrated screenplay of the adaptation of Hogfather for 4 pounds, but in my wanderings, I became lost. For 10 minutes, I became thoroughly panicked, thinking I’d be left behind (despite the fact that I had left a good margin of time before leaving for the tour bus). Thankfully, a resident, when asked, was most hopeful, and neither I nor TC were left behind.

Oxford consisted of us being shown where various famous and not-so-famous people were educated (JRR Tolkien, Michael Palin, and Terry Jones were the only ones that stuck), seeing the chapel at Christ Church College, and being asked to be back at the bus by a certain time. In the dark. Thankfully, I found the bus, bringing TC with me.

So, our first tour concluded successfully. The next day I earmarked for two things: buying the DVDs I wanted, and going to the Natural History Museum, which was having an exhibition on Charles Darwin.

The next morning, we went to Oxford Circus, and I bought Doctor Who: Lost in Time (I very stupidly sold my copy in Australia some years before, and had been unable to obtain it since. Later, I found out that, although marked ‘region 2’, it was also region 4!), Doctor Who: Vengeance on Varos (in the hope that Colin Baker, as you will see later, might sign it), and the remake of The Quatermass Experiment (unfortunately region 2 only, but I can play it on the computer, and an excellent remake).

Then, we headed over to the Natural History Museum. I have to say that the general heightened paranoia of Britain is seen in the bag checks there. Sad.

But the exhibition on Darwin was well worth the admission price to the exhibition, and other parts of the museum were well worth the visit. I have to say that out of all scientists, I identify with Darwin the most. This poor sod struggled with his ideas for a long, long time. Isaac Newton was a stroppy and unlovable SOB, Einstein had his own dogmatic issues, and so on. But Darwin was a much more human revolutionary, the one with the quiet voice.

Later that day, we also went to Westminister Abbey. Very big and solemn place, though the areas of interest to me was Poet’s Corner and the section where Darwin and Newton were buried. The same day, we tried to get to Downing Street, but I passed it without thinking, as I decided to avoid gated and guarded streets. It turned out that Downing Street, much to my annoyance, had been gated off. Oh well. Another sign of the times. O tempora, o mores, as they say.

The next day, we went to the National Portrait Gallery in order to track down a portrait of one of my ancestors, satirist William Hone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t on display. That done, we decided to briefly stop at a nearby Waterstone’s bookshop, where I found, and decided to purchase, The Stars My Destination and Parasite Eve. We then headed off to the Tower of London. The Beefeater (Yeoman Warder) who took the group we joined around the tower was another frustrated actor, but he redeemed himself substantially when he answered a question of mine truthfully and honestly: where did the term ‘Beefeater’ come from? His answer: Nobody knows, and anyone who says that they do know is a liar.

The Tower was a pretty grim place, but also a wonderful one, full of history. The Norman keep was full of armaments (after being warned by the Beefeater, I kept on joking with TC about Henry VIII’s armour and the oversized codpiece. Then, after I saw it, I remarked, unsurprisingly, that he was compensating for something) and interesting facts, and I get the feeling that the ravens know more than they’re saying.

The next day, it was on to the British Museum. As we walked onwards, I happened to look in the window of an Oxfam Bookshop. I was hoping, beyond hope, that there was something there of great worth to me.

And it was there.

The scriptbook of The Quatermass Experiment.

As many of you should know by now, I used the name of this character as my nickname. He is a scientist who is head of a Rocket research group. I had been able to obtain scripts of the other two 1950s Quatermass serials, but ever since reading it at QUT, I had been unable to find Experiment anywhere, except on the internet (and overpriced), or else as dodgily photocopied scripts in the DVD as pdf files. But this was a revelation, seeing it in the window of that bookshop. I resolved to get it, no matter what.

TC and I waited half an hour for the shop to open, and I bought it for the princely sum of 6 pounds ($15AU), about half the minimum price I would have expected to pay for it over the internet, a recent eBay auction notwithstanding. It remains my most beloved purchase from Britain, and I am grateful to TC for indulging my whim in buying it.

Unfortunately, the British Museum was packed full of school brats who wanted to gawk at the Egyptian mummies. What sort of afterlife is that, to be gurned at by someone who, in their day, would have been left for the crocodiles?

I have to admit, though, that the Roman and Egyptian sections were interesting, as was an exhibition on ancient Persia and Babylon. There was also a good section on money, and another on timepieces.

This was to be our last day in London, for soon, it was time to go to Bath. Jane Austen town, genteel country, and, for me, town of happenstance.

For I was to meet two celebrities. Once by happenstance, and the other on purpose…

3rd Entry:
Celebrities, Bath, and Other Happenings (Bath, 24/1-29/1)

During my trip in Britain, and in particular, during the part that ended up in Bath, I met, as I mentioned, two celebrities. Well, met was probably too strong a word, but exchanged a few words is possibly enough. On the train from Paddington Station to Bath Spa, TC pointed out that one of the passengers looked familiar. When I looked closer (but not too close), I realised that we were sharing the first class compartment with none other than Bill Bailey!

However, I didn’t feel comfortable approaching him for a number of reasons. One, I’m not sure how he would have reacted to a fan just approaching him, unsolicited, asking for an autograph. Two, he may have been travelling on business or for a holiday. I did later find out that he was born in Bath, so maybe he still had family there.

Despite all this, when we attempted to exit the train, we found, embarrassingly, that we could not. Bill stepped in and helped us open it. We thanked him, and we parted ways. We had a brief look around Bath (after getting our bags to the B&B). The next day was going to be a full one.

Among other things, we went to the Roman Baths. Very very interesting from a historical point of view, and I recommend that you go and see them. Then, while TC went and had a look (inevitably) inside the Jane Austen Museum (and had wonderful cream tea that she highly recommends!), I tried tracking down the William Herschel Museum, only to find it closed. However, all was not lost. I stopped by the Theatre Royal to ask specific details about the night’s coming performance, one that we had booked. Because TC and I were going to watch…a pantomime!

For those of you not in the know, a pantomime is a thoroughly ridiculous but thoroughly entertaining and hilarious form of stage performance that the British excel at. They usually take a well-known tale (in this case, Jack and the Beanstalk), and elaborate all sorts of childish nonsense, usually of a slapstick kind. Now why would I go to such a performance?

The answer was simple. Playing the villainous Fleshcreep (a sort of camply villainous wizard) was none other than the actor who played the sixth Doctor Who, Colin Baker!

(Here is the poster, from Colin Baker's website)



We did go to the performance, and were thoroughly entertained by an absolutely silly performance that involved many of the children in the audience. Jack, the Princess, and the Fairy were non-entities. As always, it was either the silly characters (Simple Simon and the King) or the grotesque ones (Fleshcreep and ‘Dame’ Trott) that were most entertaining. Innuendoes that went right over the kid’s heads (particularly involving ‘Dame’ Trott, in truth the drag act that appears to be needed in pantomimes by law) occurred quite often, and, of course, inevitably there were Doctor Who references. At the end, one of the tortures threatened on Fleshcreep was being made to watch ‘repeats of Doctor Who’, and even after being turned into a good character, he was still chased off by a small girl wearing a cloth Dalek costume to the inevitable ‘EX-TER-MIN-ATE!’ and the strains of Peter Howell’s remix of the Doctor Who theme.

However, the highlight for me came after the interval, when, bizarrely, Fleshcreep led a performance of ‘Time-warp’ from The Rocky Horror Show. Hearing Colin Baker bellow “Let’s do the time-warp again!” in a weird way makes me wonder if, in another life, he would have been an opera singer.

In any case, after the show, I waited outside the stage door, notebook, pen, and DVD covers (in a plastic slip-case) at the ready. Some time later, out he comes, with suitcase. I am the second to ask him for an autograph. I decide that, seeing as he is in a hurry, I only have him sign the notebook. When he asked me where I came from, I replied Australia, and he yelped ‘Blimey! That’s a long way away!’ He asked me for the plastic slipcase to help him have a backing to sign someone else’s book, and then, afterwards, slipped away to wherever he was residing at the time.

I went back, happy and satisfied, if not a little tired.

The next day, I spent time doing a bit more shopping. Then, the day after that, we went on a little tour. This one was to Avebury, Castle Combe, Lacock, and finally, Salisbury Plain and Stonehenge. Avebury was mildly interesting, being one of the largest and oldest stone circles. Castle Combe and Lacock have both seen recent filming, particularly for the Harry Potter series and the new movie of The Wolf Man. Stonehenge itself needs no introduction, though I have to say that, by the time we got there, it was bitterly cold, very cloudy and dark, and there was the constant sound of gunfire, presumably from the nearby army training grounds. Even so, TC and I do recommend the tour company, ‘Mad Max Tours’ (named for the proprietor and her dog, would you believe?).

The next day, however, was an exciting one (potentially) for me. TC and I were travelling to Cardiff to see the sights, particularly the Doctor Who exhibition there, as well as Roald Dahl Plass (seen in Doctor Who and Torchwood) and Cardiff Castle.

However, it was disappointing. Cardiff Castle had, for an intro film, a very arty film with little substance, and the tour we were taken on involved the section built in the 1800s by the eccentric owner (John Crichton Stuart, 3rd Marquess of Bute). Boring as hell. The Doctor Who exhibition turned out to be a pig’s ear too. Nice costumes, nice shop, but I was expecting something a lot bigger in size. Finally, TC and I went to Roald Dahl Plass, and took some photos, but we headed back to Bath somewhat disappointed.

The next day, we went back to London, and the Rhodes Hotel. This time, we had to share a room. Not too bad a prospect…until the snoring began. Apparently I started snoring first (I won’t dispute that I snore, and loudly) and kept TC up for a few hours. Then, after I woke up, TC’s snoring kept me up until the wee hours. We came to the conclusion, the next morning, that we definitely could not sleep in the same room, thankfully an arrangement that we could keep…until Hong Kong. A hurried email to our travel agent was later sent off, but we were off to Edinburgh…

(BTW, I will leave the blog for a few days, although I will add themed articles on the general inclemency of the climate, etc. Watch this space)

4th Entry

I’ll Take the High Road… (Edinburgh, 30/1-4/2)

My first night in Edinburgh was not a good one. We were due to meet friends of the family (the parents-in-law of my cousin) and go to dinner, but when we left the Bed and Breakfast we were staying at (Ramsay’s B&B, which I wholeheartedly recommend), I was a little disorientated from the train journey, and in a bit of a down mood. By that time, the novelty of the trip had, temporarily at least, worn off. The fact that the family friends didn’t know where we were going exactly (we were heading to my cousin’s brother-in-law’s place, somewhere that my cousin’s father-in-law had not been before in Edinburgh) hit me at the worst possible time, and I was rather distant and brusque towards my cousin’s father-in-law, I have to say. He is a nice man, although I sometimes call him the Scottish Baron Munchausen, and he thinks of me often. So does his wife, a wonderfully tolerant Irish woman with a gentle nature.

I hadn’t seen my cousin’s bro-in-law for a long time. Well, I hadn’t seen all of them for a long time, but, like my cousin’s husband, I shared quite a lot of interests with him. I introduced him to Zero Punctuation, and in general, managed to calm down. I also noticed a copy he had of Wicked, the novel dealing with the life of Elphaba, the ‘Wicked Witch of the West’ from The Wizard of Oz. I decided to do a swap, for I had recently finished one of my purchases in London, The Stars My Destination, and thought, given that he liked cyberpunk and science fiction in general, that I give him the copy in exchange for Wicked, his wife’s book. However, because I was in a bad mood that night, I thought it best not to ask until I had calmed down.

Interestingly, before we went out that night, I actually had a chance to go to a nearby bookshop, which, while it had nothing that I wanted, did have an unusual proprietor. I was told by one of the owners of the B&B that he was, in fact, autistic. So I went up, had a talk to him, asked him about any possible books that he might have that I couldn’t see on the shelves. Then, I asked him whether he knew about Wrong Planet. Unfortunately, he had not, and said, as far as I could make out, that he was not good with computers. Any aspies living in Edinburgh, please visit Broughton Street books and support a fellow aspie, who is getting so sick and tired of receiving Mills and Boon books that he is binning them (and I can’t blame him!).

The next day, I apologised to the cousin’s in-laws for my behaviour. They thought little of it, although I have something of a capacity for introspection and self-loathing once I brush off my own selfishness. We went to Edinburgh Castle (that is, myself and TC did so), and viewed a number of interesting things. Of particular note was Mons Meg, a gigantic cannon that makes even present day artillery look inadequate, and a series of rooms detailing the history of both the Scottish royal line, and the Scottish Honours, or the ‘Crown Jewels’ of Scotland, for want of a better term.

Another intriguing thing on the Royal Mile (the street leading up to the castle) is William Wallace, posing for photographs. No, I kid you not. Edinburgh residents will know who I am talking about: a rather cheery fellow with a sword and woad rage written on his face (well, woad painted on it) imitating Mel Gibson imitating William Wallace, whose real name is Adam Watters. Historical re-enactment at its finest since Monty Python and the Holy Grail…but more on Python later.

Later, TC and I met the cousin’s in-laws at the Grassmarket, infamous for being where Burke and Hare were executed, amongst others. I decided only to borrow Wicked, instead of swapping it outright for The Stars My Destination, and very generously, my cousin’s bro-in-law’s wife said yes. We travelled up the road and saw the statue of Greyfriars Bobby, a loyal-unto-death dog whose tale might be familiar to some, or to Futurama fans (Jurassic Bark rips off the Greyfriars Bobby legend).



(Seymour or Greyfriars?)

That night, with the help of one of the proprietors of the B&B, I was able to watch, for the first time, the remake of The Quatermass Experiment, which I will review in another thread.

The next day, TC and I decided to do a little shopping, as well as trying to look at the Museum of Scotland. Mildly interesting, but in fact, TC and myself were both looking forward to tours we had booked with Rabbie’s Tours, another one I recommend.

It is perhaps worth noting here that Edinburgh is, in fact, full of old police boxes. One has even been converted into a café! But don’t get excited, fellow Whovians. Their resemblance to the TARDIS-style police box is only in that they are blue and cramped.



(A fine example of a police box cafe in Edinburgh, though not the one we saw)

The day we were due to go on the tours though, it had snowed somewhat, and going up the sloping streets of Edinburgh proved to be something of an adventure.

In any case, we embarked on a tour through the Highlands, one of two for the time we were to spend in Edinburgh. We passed by Stirling Castle and stopped briefly in Callander, from memory, where we met ‘Hamish’, a fine specimen of a ‘Highland Coo’, or Highland Cow. We then travelled all the way to Fort Augustus (stopping at a few photo-ops on the way), and Loch Ness.



(Hamish's rellies, presumably)

While eating lunch at the pub there, TC and I made the acquaintance of an aspiring fantasy author called Michelle, from New York (though originally, I believe that she was from Chicago). After we discussed our respective writing aspirations, we went to the Loch itself and took a few quick photos, partly because of the cold (if Nessie exists, then she ain’t a reptile!) and partly because the bus was leaving in about 10 minutes.

Another site we passed was Glencoe, which was where the infamous massacre of the Macdonalds took place (for more, read up on Scottish history, you sassenach!), as well as various locations used for Highlander, amongst other films, and Loch Laggan, a familiar place for those who watch Monarch of the Glen.

One interesting outcome of the day was that, having met Michelle, I was struck by an awe-inspiring revelation as to how to rewrite one of my novels. It was actually not directly connected with her own plot, but rather, having heard about it, I was struck by how simple and unsophisticated my own attempts had been in comparison. I mean, I was staying in the city where JK Rowling had written up a good chunk, if not all, of the Harry Potter books! On the way back to Edinburgh, I was struck by a piece of inspiration, one that would use elements from the original novel as planned and twist them upon themselves, and thus add further complications to the plot that would improve it drastically. I even told Michelle of this just before we parted. Should my novel ever get published, I will reveal all. But that is for another time.

The second tour day included a brief (unfortunately) stop at Doune Castle, notably one of the locations used for Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Although too brief, I did get to see the place where the Knights of the Round Table attacked the French Castle, and where the French Taunter (as played by John Cleese) shouted “I fart in your general direction!”


Another place we went to on the tour was to the bonny banks of Loch Lomond, famous for the song (which actually has rather sad undertones, considering that it is possibly about a Scot about to be executed by the English).

But all good things, as they say, must come to an end, and it was soon time for us to head back to London, for a further ten days of metropolitan tourism.

5th Entry

Terrific and Traumatic Tourism (5/2-9/2)

Coming back to London meant coming back to do more tourism. The day after arriving back, TC and I took a walk through Hyde Park all the way to Kensington Palace. By then, I was pretty oversaturated as far as palaces and castles were concerned, and churches had gone way past their use-by date, and into the maggot-ridden food-poisoning in a wrapper phase.

However, it was still interesting to see where these past kings and queens have resided over the past little while. Then, TC and I made the decision to walk to Harrods, for the second visit during that trip. I eventually decided to purchase Death Note Volume 13: How to Read, from that store. Ironic, innit? All of Harrods to choose from, and I buy a manga book and a 500ml bottle of Coke (admittedly cheaper than many other places at about, I think, one pound).

I have to say though that the memorial to Diana and Dodi al-Fayed is rather cheesy and tacky. Whoever designed it should be shot for crimes against art and royalty, and Mohammed al-Fayed needs psychiatric help.

In any case, all that aside, the next day, we took in two more London landmarks. First, we went to what is probably the most famous address in literature, 221B Baker Street. Yes, it is there, or at least it is now, and there is a Sherlock Holmes museum there.

The famous living room of the books was occupied by an antediluvian actor playing Sherlock Holmes, just as a similar arrangement was made for some poor berk to play Shakespeare’s father in the Birthplace in Stratford-upon-Avon. Personally, I felt that ‘Holmes’ lacked genuine charm and was too old. This wasn’t to say that he wasn’t nice, it’s just that he seemed out of place to me. Not because he wore a smoking jacket instead of a deerstalker and cape (I know enough about Holmes to know that this was never in the Conan Doyle books), but rather, something didn’t feel right. But his bedroom was intriguing, in that he had a wall covered in photos of infamous murderers of that period (I recognised Dr Crippen and Lizzie Borden).

Other rooms included rather interesting waxworks, probably made at nearby Madame Tussauds’, showing scenes from Holmes stories. One bookshelf had copies of books by Holmes, Watson, and even Moriarty!

Then, I decided to pick up a souvenir. One of the most shocking that were there was a ‘syringe pen’, which is exactly what it means. A pen that looks like a syringe. Why would this be in a Sherlock Holmes museum? Well, Holmes was noted for injecting cocaine and other drugs. I eventually got a small, normal gold-coloured Holmesian pen rather than that tacky, hard-to-explain-to-Customs, pen.

Then, we walked to the London Zoo at Regent’s Park, and spent the rest of the afternoon looking at animals who surely must be freezing their respective body parts off in the bitterly cold London winter. I felt sorry, in particular, for native Australian animals that I saw.

The next day, we decided to go and visit two major paragons of British culture. The first was the Globe Theatre, reconstructed by Sam Wanamaker. For all you Doctor Who fans, not only was The Shakespeare Code filmed here, but William ‘Ian Chesterton’ Russell played the King of France in Henry V there.

The Globe is well worth visiting, not just for the tour of the theatre itself, but also for a wonderfully informative exhibition on both the history of the original Globe and its successor, and the productions both past and present. If you are visiting London, visit the Globe. ‘Nuff said.

Then, we travelled to the British Library, and spent some time looking through an exhibition on the evolution of human rights, exhibitions of the Library’s collection (including some seriously old and priceless manuscripts and notes), and a small exhibition on Darwin.

So far, so good. But then, we had to travel to Brighton the next day, to meet some friends of the family. If I had to pick a day of the trip that was the worst, then going to Brighton was it.

Why was it so bad? Well, catching the train to Victoria station was hell, due to delays. We were in an extremely crowded train to get to Victoria, and my personal space was being violated to such a degree that I was in serious danger of lashing out at the slightest provocation.

Then, after arriving, we found that Brighton was enduring what Queenslanders might think of as a cyclone. Pissing down with rain, abominably cold, and very miserable. The family friends were very kind and nice to me, and took us on a tour of a market area. At first, I was worried about completely depleting my now scant funds, but after finding some excellent Doctor Who-related books in one shop, I bought them. That, and the hospitality of the family friends, were the best part of that day. The rest of it was trudging around what was supposed to be a f*****g sea-side resort in strong winds, freezing rain, and general misery. I did have a touch of post-traumatic stress afterwards, and I am certainly not going near Brighton again, although I have to point out that the family friends did their best to make me feel welcome, and I appreciate it now, if not then.

After Brighton, and back to London, we made preparations for the next leg of the journey, to visit Oxford…

6th Entry

Simple Joys and Crossing the Line (London, 10/2-16/2)

Although TC and I had a brief visit to Oxford during our first stay in London (as part of an aforementioned tour), this time, we went there for the whole day of our own volition. TC’s main objective was the Ashmolean Museum, and, in particular, the Alfred Jewel. Unfortunately, the museum authorities had decided to do some sort of renovation, and all we could visit was the shop. While she looked in there, I decided to look for a nearby public convenience, and found one, eventually, in the Borders’ Bookshop. On the way back, a young woman, presumably as a joke, offered to expose herself for a penny. Bemused and disgusted, I ignored her.

Eventually, we had our lunch in a pub, and there was one on the opposite side of the road called The Lamb and Flag. British comedy viewers will undoubtedly recognise this as the most likely inspiration for Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmondson’s pub in their comedy Bottom. (Though upon further examination, The Lamb and Flag seems to be a popular pub name in Britain)

We then travelled up Lamb and Flag Passage to the Natural History Museum, the major highlight of Oxford for me. In the lecture theatre, Soapy Sam Wilberforce and Thomas Huxley faced off in the well-known debate. Soapy Sam, in conclusion to a speech in which he denounced Darwin’s theories, then asked Huxley which side of the family he was descended from apes. Huxley supposedly whispered sarcastically “The Lord has delivered him into my hands”, and concluded his own speech by saying that, given a choice of ancestors between an ape and an intelligent man who nonetheless uses his faculties to inject ridicule into a scientific discussion, then he would unhesitatingly prefer the ape.

There was an exhibition relating to Darwin, as well as some relating to CS Lewis, another Oxford alumnus (with a stuffed dodo being the focus of his relation to the museum). Some brief browsing through various shops followed, but otherwise, little else of note in Oxford.

The next day, we went to that grandest of tourist traps, Windsor Castle, which, I have to admit, was somewhat impressive (as were some of the security precautions). The exhibitions were admittedly quite good, especially the ‘doll house’, although the exhibition of Prince Chucky, while mildly interesting, did little to dissuade me from the fact that he has passed his use-by date.

And with a castle owned by the effective head of the Church of England (ie, the Queen) comes yet another bloody church. Again with the churches! Arrrggghhh! (You can tell by this point that I was really churched out)

An interesting story, though. We only went on the half-day tour (to Windsor Castle, and past Runnymede, which has got to be one of the most unfortunately named places on Earth), and the bus we were to take back to London had been requisitioned by the full-day tourers, because the bus they were to take had a dud battery. So we had to wait for our new bus’ battery to be fixed. As frustrating as that was, it was nothing compared to the poor Chinese tourist who was told that she had 15 minutes left to shop, and yet, when she came back, presumably on time, they had buggered off without her! And this tour had the same tour guide as we did on our tour to Stratford-upon-Avon. So, don’t expect good customer service from Premium Tours. The lie is right in the title.

The next day, Cambridge. Besides rummaging around in the Oxfam bookshop (and turning up a pristine cope of Who On Earth is Tom Baker?, which I needed to replace my old, ratty, spit-and-sellotape copy), we visited The Eagle pub, famed for being where Watson and Crick, discoverers of DNA’s chemical structure. We also saw the Corpus clock, a bizarre way of telling the time if you ask me, and TC went to look at the King’s College church while I lingered around the nearby bookshops.

Then, onward to the Whipple Museum of the History of Science, and an interesting look around there. Finally, a visit to the Fitzwilliam Museum, with the antiquities being more interesting, to me at least, than the paintings upstairs.

As we made our way out, preparing to go to the train station, it started snowing. And here is something which I will never forget. At least twice, I saw, on my glove, a classic, 6-sided symmetrical snowflake. Only half a centimetre wide. A very profound experience for me, that, seeing a stereotypical image, drummed into my head since childhood, actually turning out to be a reality.

The next day, we hurried to Buckingham Palace, and the changing of the guard. It was, as I have joked afterwards, trying to peer through a crowd (despite the fact that we got there early) just to watch a bunch of soldiers who looked like they could be used to clean chimneys in those hats. I don’t understand the prestige it brings. I personally feel that it would be one of the worst guard jobs you could get without having to clean out latrines.

TC and I took to the Queen’s Gallery, something of only mild interest to me, although the Flemish painters on display greatly interested TC.

The next day, once more, we took a grand tour, firstly, to Leeds Castle. Although not that much interesting to me at the time, it turns out that Leeds Castle was used for the filming of the Doctor Who story The Androids of Tara. However, we only had enough time to wander through the castle, and then have a quick look at the aviary, where I pitied the tropical birds in the cold. However, I think that they are compensated by screaming at unsuspecting visitors. When one boy yelled at a cockatoo that had been screaming loudly to shut up, I hissed at the cockatoo to scream more. Unfortunately, he didn’t heed me. Bugger.

Then, on to Canterbury, whose claim to fame was being the site of a cathedral, and being immortalised by Chaucer in his Canterbury Tales. Once more, to a church, although this one was, at least, a little more interesting than the last few. And after our pilgrimage (such as it was) to Canterbury, we headed to Dover. The white cliffs weren’t exactly spectacular that day, and neither was the rocky beach, although I enjoyed seeing France from afar. Best way to experience France, ha ha.

For our final full day in London, we decided to head to Greenwich (via a relatively interesting river cruise which we took from near the London Eye), and the famous observatory there. A mildly interesting film, whose only truly saving grace was that it was narrated by Tom Baker (who saved Little Britain from being a truly abysmal show), played, the subject being probes sent to Mars. But the actual observatory and the rooms where Flamsteed, thorn in Isaac Newton’s side (and that’s no bad thing, from my point of view) lived were interesting, as was an exhibition on the first truly accurate clocks. I have a certificate to prove that I did cross the Prime meridian at (consults certificate) 2:01 PM GMT (and 43.78 seconds) on the 15th of February, 2009.

My last day in London, heading to Victoria Station to head to Guildford, however, was not a pleasant one. While struggling with my suitcases to catch up with TC (for once), a man carrying a box bumped into me, and gave me an earful. I told TC to not board the train, as I would not board a crowded train with someone like that who abused me like that. If you are reading this, whoever you are, go shove that box where the sun don’t shine, and then some.

But after that, we managed to get on the train to Guildford, for the final leg of our journey, before heading back home…

Final Entry

Homeward Bound (Guildford and Hong Kong, 17/2-24/2)

For a few days, TC worked at the University of Surrey (doing a lecture at one point), while I wandered around the town that gave Ford Prefect such a convenient alibi as to his place of origin, Guildford. The B&B was a nice little place, although my room, admittedly, had mould up the derriere.

On the second day in Guildford, I wandered to an attraction that I had heard about, a pokey little museum of a former workhouse known as the Spike. Finding this place was an exercise in frustration, but just when I was on the verge of giving up, I found it. And I have to admit, it is actually fairly underpriced. The lovely old lady in charge gave me the tour, which turned out to be interesting. It is actually what is known as a ‘casual ward’, where vagrants could stay one night, have a meal, work their derrieres off, and then move on. The sheer amount of history within the museum was quite interesting, and I went back to the B&B quite happy.

Eventually, we headed to Heathrow Airport, where I must say that the security measures were paranoid compared to Australia’s. They make you take your shoes off, and put them through an x-ray machine. I have been told that both America and Israel are more stringent in their security measures, but getting out of Britain was more onerous than coming in.

Eventually, we were confined to the uncomfortable concentrated can of flatulence people call Economy Class once more. And once more, we made the journey to Hong Kong. By now, I was pretty sick and tired of the whole experience, and wanted nothing more than to get back home to Australia. But we had a couple of nights stopover in Hong Kong, and I was to have to put up with it.

I have to say that, in my opinion, drivers in Hong Kong appear to have no regard for pedestrians. They drive like they have the concentrated homicidal tendencies of every serial killer combined within them. And the air isn’t much better. Smoggy as all hell. And I feel uneasy in a country where you are uncertain as to whether anyone could understand English.

The next day, TC and I set out on a tour of various locales in Hong Kong. And despite my fatigue with the entire trip, and being in a country where I was probably not easily understood, I actually saw some interesting sights.

Our first stop was to the Man Mo Temple. I had to admit, that was fairly interesting. A temple built to venerate the gods of literature and war respectively. Of course, I gave my respects to the god of literature.

Next, we went to the Victoria Peak, or just The Peak. Riding the Tram going up was an experience and a half in itself, as was seeing Hong Kong from above, albeit shrouded in pollution and bamboo scaffolding.

Next, we went to the Aberdeen Harbour, and travelled around Aberdeen Harbour via a sampan, taking in various sights, including the Jumbo Floating Restaurant (vastly overrated, according to TC, who has had experience of Hong Kong before), and a number of people eking out a living on boats moored in the harbour. An interesting sight.

Finally, we went to the Stanley Markets. Bustling and crowded, and full of crap that I certainly could not afford, but browsed anyway.

For our final day in Hong Kong (before we were to catch a midnight flight back to Australia), we went to the Hong Kong Space Museum and had a browse of some of the interesting exhibits (although they were using some very badly dated films). We also went to see some old friends of the family, whom TC hadn’t seen in ages. And after that, a little exploration of the shopping areas.

I am continually amazed, and annoyed, at the amount of street peddlers, and I was told by TC that there were less than there was the last time she was there. I could not understand how such a thing was possible, but I was sorely tempted several times to do bodily harm to them.

Eventually, we were taken to the airport, where we boarded the plane that would take us home. Some hours later, we arrived in Cairns. And a few hours later, we were back in Brisbane, awaiting transport back home.

I do not regret the trip, even the bad bits, as it has all been an experience. However, I am not sure whether I will go overseas again. But I still have enjoyed much of the trip, and will keep these memories for a long time.